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LXXVIII. THE SAME.

Hymn 28.

[O that I could repent]

O that I could repent,
With all my idols part,
And to Thy gracious eye present
An humble contrite heart!

427

An heart with grief oppress'd
At having grieved my God,
A troubled heart that cannot rest
Till sprinkled with Thy blood!
Jesu, on me bestow
The penitent desire,
With true sincerity of woe,
My aching breast inspire;
With softening pity look,
And melt my hardness down,
Strike with Thy love's effectual stroke,
And break this heart of stone.
O for Thy glorious name
My flinty bosom move,
And let me feel my load of shame,
And groan my want of love:
Low in the deepest deep
My humbled spirit lay,
And give me there to cry, and weep
My pensive life away.
Absorb'd in ceaseless woe,
No interval I crave,
But softly all my days to go,
And mourning to the grave;
Till all my pains are past,
And Thou my soul require:—
But let me see Thy face at last,
And in Thy arms expire.